En Passant
by DeaD-VoRTeX
Summary: All is not well in Kagoshima High School. A girl jumps from the science block roof between classes, and a group of students find their diaries suddenly possess the ability to tell the future. There can only be one left standing. Who will win the game of death? (Prequel to the manga / anime series.)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1/ ****Aria**

_Thursday 20th June / 2:43 pm / Kagoshima High School, Geography classroom G1_

_You have -1- new message._

I glance down at the phone in my pocket, where a new notification lights up the screen. For a moment, I even consider checking it, but then I notice that the teacher's eyes are hovering in my direction. It's probably just a text from Mum telling me she's going to be late, I reason. Or spam mail. Whatever. Either way, I can't afford getting caught out again – not if I'm to pass this class, anyway.

It's not that I find geophysical landforms boring. In fact, I'm sure there are people in this world who love nothing more than to label volcanic diagrams. It's just that time of day where every minute seems to drag on forever. As if the hands on the clock stop moving when I look away. Frowning, I lower my pencil to my notepad and scratch in a few more lines. The picture details my view – the few desks in front of me and the backs of the people sitting there. It's bad, even by my standards.

I'm just working on the dark ponytail of the girl to the left when I realise I don't know her name. Not that I particularly care about the majority of the people I go to school with, but it seems strange that I would never ask someone who sits so close to me. I make a mental note of it, for all its worth.

And then, next to her, sits Kimiko.

I suppose it's a bit immature to label another as your enemy at the age of sixteen, but if anyone's going to be deserving of that title, it's Kimiko Harada. I'll admit it – she's pretty damn perfect. She knows it, and so does just about every other person in the school, thanks to her sharp tongue. I've been on the receiving end a few times, but mainly it's the younger students she picks on, the ones with about as much self-confidence as a mop. But I'm not going to dwell on it. I'm not going to be childish.

So in the end, I just draw an arrow to her illustration and write 'bitch'.

That ought to do it.

After class, I rush to catch up with the black-haired girl from earlier. It takes a few minutes to find her amid the crowds of students, but eventually I spot her hunched over her locker in the corridor outside.

"Hi," I say, approaching her.

She freezes. Then she peers over her locker door at me and mumbles something. I can't quite hear it over the noise, but it sounds a little like "I'm busy."

Now, I'm not the outgoing type. In fact, I would usually class myself as the complete opposite. But I've seen this girl being pushed around and ignored before, so I'm not about to back down.

"Want to walk with me to the final class? I've got biology—"

I'm interrupted by the sound of the locker door slamming shut. The girl turns to look at me with a harsh, dry expression. "Don't feel like you have to be nice to me just because I'm a foreigner. I'd rather you didn't try."

"What?" I can feel myself getting annoyed at her attitude. Indifference is one thing, but this is ridiculous. I frown, saying nothing as she collects her bag.

Somewhere nearby, the bell to move us along to the next lesson rings out across the corridor. At the same time, a shouting arises from the crowd, and I notice several people moving back as two figures split them. They rush past me, shouldering their way through the clusters of gawping students. One of them I recognise as Mr Murakami, my social studies teacher from last year. I don't catch his expression, but I can tell from his speed that he's in a hurry.

"Wonder what's up with them," I mutter to myself. Turning back to the girl, I add, "Want to find out? My class is in that direction anyway."

The girl stares at me for a few moments, then slings her bag over her shoulder. "Okay."

It seems that several other people have gotten the same idea. A few laugh and point down the corridor at the disappearing backs of the two teachers. Making sure that the girl is following me, I pull away from the lockers and begin down the corridor.

What could be so bad that it would require Mr Murasaki's attention, I wonder. Has something happened? Probably just some first year with their head stuck in the railings, or even something similar. Whatever it is, it'll probably make the walk to biology more interesting. More join us as we go along, and soon we pass through the doors of the block and into the courtyard.

What I see, however, makes me stop dead.

A crowd is gathered to the left, each person staring up at the building that casts them in shadow. There's a girl standing on the roof, motionless aside from the flutter of her uniform in the wind. It doesn't take much to work out what's going on.

I allow my mind to tune into the sounds arising from those gathered. Some are panicking. Others are mortified. A small distance away, I notice Mr Murakami cup his hands and call out to the girl: "Saeko Ishiguro, stay right where you are. Help is on its way."

_Ishiguro..._ A gasp escapes me as I recognise the name. The girl is from my art class. We don't speak often, but just the other day I lent her a pencil that she never gave back. Sure enough, when I stare up into the shadows of her face, a sense of familiarity springs to mind. Her small features are emotionless. It's as if she doesn't even realise where she is.

All at once, I feel sick. Somehow, just knowing the girl's name makes the situation all that worse.

"She's not really going to jump, is she?" The girl with black hair moves up beside me, concern heavy in her tone. I don't answer her; my eyes are fixed upon the roof.

Saeko tilts her head to stare down at the ground. Perhaps she's having reservations. Or maybe she's sizing up the distance, calculating the fall. I'll never know. But what I do know is that nothing can prepare me for what happens next as Saeko takes a step forward.

And jumps.

* * *

**A/N:** It feels strange to be writing fanfiction again. I had so many ideas for my next story: Attack on Titan, Fallout 3, Amnesia, Assassin's Creed 3, even Far Cry 3... but in the end, it came out as this. Strange, considering it was about two years ago when I watched Mirai Nikki. XD I have some ideas and a good direction for this fic, so I hope it comes out well. Perhaps it could be my new Dreamweaver...? It's going to be told from the point of view of several characters, so please bear with me if the prose is a little trippy at times.

As usual, please feel free to favourite / follow / leave a review. I'd love to know what you think of my first chapter!

-VoRTeX


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 / Elliot**

_Thursday 20__th__ June / 3:29 pm / Kagoshima High School, bike sheds_

A full ten minutes after his last text, Ikuo finally shows his ass.

He makes his way towards me across the playground, clutching a large case in his hand. His cheeks looked flushed, as if he has been running.

"Ikuo." I take a moment to draw in on my cigarette before straightening up.

There's a strange sort of anxiousness in the man's eyes. "Have you seen the main playground? Half the school's gathered there."

"Probably just some fifth grader who's broken their leg," I mumble. Either way, it's none of my concern. My eyes are drawn to the case in the other's hand. "Let's see what you've got."

"Oh, right." Shaking his head, Ikuo drops to his knees and lays the case onto the tarmac. It's about a foot long, with a metal exterior and two clips to hold it shut. I strain my eyes to see the small insignia in the corner, but it appears to read 'Kagoshima North Police Dept'.

"Here." Ikuo flicks open the clips and pulls up the lid, then stares down. My heart is pounding. I watch him for a moment, trying to decipher his expression, before he turns the case around to display its contents to me.

A gun. It looks almost unreal against the royal blue of the case's padding, its polished silver sides suggesting a lack of use. I reach down and ease it from the lining.

"9mm semi-automatic pistol," says Ikuo. "It's the standard that all the officers use."

"Is it loaded?"

"Yes. And there are 45 additional rounds in the case."

I nod my head slowly. The gun feels natural in my hand, as if it has been made to fit to my grip. When I hold it up to the sun, the sides glint in the light.

"Elliot. We need to discuss payment."

I stare at Ikuo over the pistol. "We already have. The money's in my bag."

"Good, good." Ikuo glances down at his feet. "So, can I have it? The 40,000 yen?

My whole body tenses. I can feel my eyes narrow at the man. "What?"

Ikuo's tone takes on a sudden forcefulness; I can tell he's trying to make himself look as big as possible, despite the fact he stands several inches shorter than me. "Like I said, 40,000."

"Bullshit, man. You promised 20,000." I can feel my anger brewing more with each word.

"Do you know how hard it is to get one of those?" Ikuo says. Any influence he might have had is now gone as his voice turns desperate. "I risked my ass for that gun. If my father found out I'd sneaked into the station and stolen police property—"

"So? Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" I lower my eyes to the gun, pulling back the hammer with a _click_. Then I raise it and point it straight at Ikuo.

He freezes. His eyes travel from my face, to the tip of the pistol and back again. There's silence for a few moments, a deadlock.

"C-come on, Elliot," he says at last. "You're not serious..."

My eyes are on the weapon in my hand. I wouldn't, would I? The feeling of uncertainty only contrasts more deliciously with the excitement that I can feel trickling down my spine. If I wanted to, I could squeeze my finger and shoot this dumb bastard dead. No payment. Nothing. But in the end, I force myself to lower my arm and look away.

"20,000 yen," I say.

It takes a moment for Ikuo to reply. He looks shaken, to say the least. "Uh... Of course."

I watch him carefully as I bend down and unbuckle the satchel by my feet, never letting him out of my peripheral vision. My cigarette still hangs in my left hand. I place it between my lips and pull out a bundle of notes.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell sounds. The final class of the day has started.

* * *

**A/N:** So here we are again with Chapter 2. Usually, my chapters start out short and get gradually longer as the story progresses, but it all depends on what I'm writing. I intend to keep these short to keep the plot moving and better balance the multiple POV concept. I assure you that things get really interesting in a few chapters, so stay tuned!

A quick note about the title: 'En Passant' is a move in chess that allows a pawn to take another pawn after it has moved two spaces, despite it not being within its range. Think of it as a kind of backhand move. I hope it becomes more obvious as the story goes on.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment! It would mean a lot.

-VoRTeX


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Aria**

_Thursday 20__th__ June / 4:10 pm / Aria's bedroom_

This afternoon, I've returned home early. The final class has been cancelled, and students advised to return to their houses straight away. I head straight for my room. With my mum working late, it's the only thing I can do.

I barely take the time to remove my shoes, flinging my bag into the corner and leaping straight onto my bed. That's where I lay for the next five minutes, absolutely still and thinking of nothing.

Yet despite my efforts, it is impossible to shake the images that flash through my mind. Saeko's body, crumpled in the playground, a pool of her own blood expanding around her. There are certain things they don't tell you in books and movies: like the slapping sound the flesh makes as it hits the ground, and the way the eyes stare at you from the skull in the moments afterwards. Both are things I doubt I'll ever forget. Just the thought of them makes me sick.

I still can't understand why no-one thought to run forward and catch her. Yet when I think about it, they were probably all as scared as me. Fear is strange like that it freezes every muscle in your body and makes movement impossible. The moment when you need to run the most is the moment when you find yourself at your most helpless of all.

Only when I look over at my bag do I remember the text message I received in class. I pull myself from my bed, return with my mobile and flip it open. Sure enough, the message flashes up on screen:

_just seen ur old website. thats pretty funny lol :P DIE U FUGLY SHIT_

Charming. And inventive, might I add. As if no-one's every told me to kill myself before. I grimace as I think of the sick irony of that. The sender hasn't left a name, but their number is recorded. Usually, I would force myself through the effort of finding the person behind it, but I just can't be bothered today. It's probably just some nobody first-year anyway. They must have heard the rumours about me from the older kids.

I groan and turn onto my stomach, when a sharp beeping noise draws my attention. I glance down at the phone in my hand to see that another message has come through. Another anonymous number. My instincts tell me not to open it, but I find my thumb on the button nevertheless.

_Hi, Aria. I hope you don't mind me getting your number off one of the other girls. And I usually wouldn't text you like this, but... Well, to be honest, I'm scared about what happened at school today. Do you think we could talk? Sorry about my behaviour earlier. -Rani_

The Japanese is pretty shaky, but I understand it well enough. And that name... It doesn't take me long to fill in the gaps. Isn't this the black-haired girl I spoke to at school today? A part of me relaxes, and I type out my reply:

_Don't worry about it! We all get stressed, right? You can talk to me anytime you want._

I stare at the screen for a few moments before hitting 'Send', wondering if the tone sounds a little chatty. In the end, I click the button. Then I snap the phone shut, close my eyes and sigh deeply.

Whilst I wait for a reply, I reach over and take out my notepad. The pages are full of meaningless drawings: sketches of rooms, the backs of people, random figures who happen to be walking past when I'm bored. I like to think of it as a diary of sorts, a way for me to document my everyday life through pictures. The thought brings a small smile to my face. The most recent entry is of the classroom, with Rani and Kimiko. Just before the accident... How strange that every direction my mind takes leads back to that moment. Maybe it's something that I won't ever get off my mind.

As I turn the page, however, something catches my attention, a single sentence hanging in the middle of the page:

_Meet me at school at 7:00. Make sure that you are alone. I have something important to tell you._

My eyes linger on the words for a few seconds. Has someone else written this? Strange, since I don't remember leaving my bag unattended at any point during the day. And that's not the only thing that worries me.

It's in my handwriting.

There's no doubt about it. A smooth script, leaning slightly to the left with a firm hold on the pencil. For a moment, I wonder whether the person has deliberately tried to copy my handwriting to scare me. It would make sense, what with all the hate mail I've been getting recently. But that still doesn't explain _how_ the message ended up in my notepad. I scan the words again. There's no date to go with the time, nor a name.

I close my eyes again and let out a sigh. 7:00...

It's not as if I was doing anything this evening anyway.

* * *

I regret bringing my hoodie.

Even for July, the air is unusually heavy. Enough to make me uncomfortable in my band hoodie and skirt. I've always liked the heat of summer, but this might be a little too much.

To distract myself, I turn, lean against the chain-link fence of the playground and observe my surroundings. The street in front of me is empty unusual, even for the quieter outskirts of town. If I look up, I can see the peak of Mount Sakurajima* rising above the buildings in the distance. I find myself staring at it for a few seconds, then look away, irritated.

I slip my phone from my pocket and glance at the screen. 7:24... Hopefully, my mum received the note I left for her in the kitchen telling her I was going out to dinner with friends. It saves her having to cook for two, anyway. Still, I worry about her. I'm seventeen, but she still treats me like I'm in junior school. I suppose it's to be expected, though I'm an only child, so I've always been, and always will be her baby. I can see her still pandering over me in twenty years. The thought entertains me for the next few minutes.

But after that, I'm left alone again, hot and irritated. It's almost half past now. I'm beginning to wonder whether all this is a set-up. Of course it's a set-up. Who am I kidding? Only when I think back to everything do I realise how stupid the whole situation is. I probably wrote the note myself in some absent-minded daze before geography. Perhaps the events of the day have gotten to me after all. I'm just about to leave, when I find myself turning and looking back at the school behind.

For some reason, I feel I should check inside, just to make sure that someone's not waiting for me within the grounds. The buildings look strange from here, the descending sun casting long, warped shadows across the playground. I might even go so far as to say they look daunting.

Or perhaps it's the playground itself which catches me off-guard. After when happened with Saeko today, wouldn't there be more people here? I'd expect police cars, at least. In most suicide cases, investigations last days weeks, even. Entire areas are taped off from the public. So why does the whole place look abandoned?

It's enough to spark my curiosity, at least. Gathering my satchel over my shoulder, I walk along the fence until I find the bushes at the end. A small hole, about as tall as my waist, is carved out there. When we were little, my friends and I used to escape from the grounds here and go to the local noodle bar during our lunch hour. I've grown a bit since then, so I wonder whether I can fit through the narrow gap, but manage it in the end, without causing too much damage to my knees.

Once on the other side, I straighten up and begin my way towards the nearest building. My hand finds the blade in my pocket and squeezes it, as if out of habit. It's a simple flick-knife a couple of inches long at best but something I've always carried with me when travelling alone. My notebook and pencils hang around my shoulder in a light satchel.

I make sure to take the long way around the playground, just to avoid the spot of Saeko's death. Of course, they would have taken away her body by now, but I still feel wary of the area. I travel to the entrance of the main building and try the handle, expecting it to be locked, yet it falls open in my hand. I frown. Has someone been here? Could it be the person who wrote the note? I quickly dismiss the thought, but still, it strikes me as odd.

I cannot even begin to say how strange it is to enter an empty school. Corridors and classrooms usually filled with students and teachers, completely vacant. My footsteps sound loudly against the floor as I walk through the first passage, despite my efforts to remain silent. Perhaps there's a teacher working late around here. But four hours late? After today? Surely that can't be the case. Even so, I move quickly and quietly as possible, in caution.

It isn't long before something catches my eye. I turn to see the art room behind me. This is where Saeko and I shared a class... I'm not entirely sure what's brought my attention to it, but I find myself moving towards the door anyway.

The room is dark inside, despite the window; I'm tempted to turn on the lights, but decide against it in the end. Unlike the traditional setting of single desks, this class has several larger tables positioned around the floor. Canvases decorate the walls, and the smell of fresh paint drifts from a set of drying racks in the far corner.

I walk around to the first table and look down. This place doubles up as a registration base in the mornings and afternoons, so each place has a small label. Ogawa,, Kobayashi, Saitou... I smile as I pass the place where I always sit for art lessons. As I go on, however, a certain name stops me dead.

_Saeko Ishiguro_

I lower my hand and run my fingers along the smooth of the desk, as if doing so will stir back some kind of memory. All of a sudden, I feel a great pity for the girl that I barely even met. It's strange to think that just this morning she was sitting right here in this spot. Had she already planned her death by then? I try not to think about it.

I realise that there's a drawer attached to the table below the name. Since books are usually kept below the lids of registration desks, this must be the equivalent. I'm just about to slide it open, when I pause. Is this right, going through the possessions of a dead person? When I think about the fact that police and investigators have probably emptied out everything from her locker already, my guilt subsides, and I pull it open.

I almost laugh when I see the first thing inside. My pencil I lent to her last lesson. And all this time, I thought she'd lost it. Apart from that, though, the drawer is empty all except for a small notebook. It's not unlike my own, only when I flick through it, I realise that it's completely empty. No drawings. No notes. Not even a name on the cover.

The slightest hint of disappointment rises within me. Really, I don't know what I was expecting. Some confession that would reveal why a young girl would choose to fling herself from the roof of a building? Not everyone's weird enough to keep a diary like me. Tutting to myself, I take the book out, hold it by its spine and shake it slightly, just to make sure I haven't missed anything.

My heart almost stops when I piece of paper falls out.

I stare at it for a few seconds, then crouch down and pick it up. It's a photo. The happy, smiling face of Saeko Ishiguro stares at me through the paper, as happy as I remember her. However, she's not alone. Another, slightly taller figure stands by her, his arm draped around her shoulder. I can tell it's a man his suit and figure reveal that much. Yet what puts me off is that his face is covered. I know several girls in my class who like to draw hearts and stars over their photos (some lovestruck teenager thing I don't understand), but this figure's whole face has been blacked out with a large permanent heart, obscuring any form of identity. I'm probably looking too far into it, but it seems odd.

Somewhere very close, a door slams shut.

I freeze. Out in the corridor, I can hear footsteps – purposeful steps, as if the person isn't afraid of being found. Could it be a teacher? My heart begins to quicken when I think about the consequences of me being caught here. Not only am I trespassing, but with the Saeko situation, it's likely that I could be tied in connection with that. I tuck my head low and stay as still as possible behind the desk, listening.

The footsteps grow louder with each second. I will for them to pass, but when they reach the door, they stop. _God, no_... I hold my breath as the hinges creak.

"Is anyone there?"

It's a man's voice – not refined enough to be a teacher's, and strangely familiar. I don't relax, though. Every muscle in my body is wound up like a spring, tensed for the moment when the door closes and I can breathe out again.

That's when the tabletop above me explodes.

I feel it more than I hear it, feel the whole table shudder with the gunshot. The bullet is enough to crack the brittle wood to pieces, sending splinters of showering onto the far wall and floor before me. At last, I break my ice and fling myself below the shelter of the table, just as another two gunshots crack around me. The second one hits the floor a few inches away from my foot. I can feel the heat travel up my leg.

"Do you think you can hide from me, bitch? _I can see you_! You're the one who did this to me, aren't you?" the figure screams.

What the hell's he talking about? What did I do to him? I want to reply, but my body won't let me. Frantic breaths shake my chest. I stare out from underneath the table at the light in the doorway, and the ankles of the person I can see standing there. I'm half-expecting another shot, but after a few seconds, the figure back up a little and turns.

Then he runs back down the corridor, leaving me to lie, trembling, in the darkness.

* * *

*An active volcano in Kagoshima Prefecture. It can easily be seen from the capital, Kagoshima, where the story is set. I suggest you look it up it's one of the more interesting of Japan's landforms.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, it's done. And the story has finally set into motion! I apologise for the length of this chapter, since I was planning on keeping them short for this story. I was up until 2:00 last night typing this, but had to stop for obvious reasons. I've just finished it, and since it's late, haven't gone through it yet, so please excuse any mistakes. I'll give it an edit tomorrow, when I'm not so tired.

Look out for the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 / Kyousuke**

_Thursday 20th June / 6:45 / Kyousuke's room_

100,000 separate views... I can barely believe the number I see in front of me. My blog's barely been up a week, and already 10,000 people have visited. Nothing I've done has ever been as popular as this. Even that tutorial I put up last year has half that number.

I have to write about this.

I pull my PSP from my hoodie pocket and flick to the notes section. A long line of entries is already on the screen, several from today. I waste no time in updating:

_6:45 100,000 views in just a week! Popularity is the mark of a true hero. I wonder what the future will hold...? _

I grin as I run my eyes over the words I've just typed. It's a kind of game I play with myself yeah, right! More like a sorcerer's enchantment to bring me down. But either way, it spells good news for me. No school, no worrying over pointless studies ice cream, chocolate, sweets, whatever. In fact, my mum should be back from the supermarket anytime soon.

I spot a bowl I'd been using for popcorn earlier next to my computer, and pick it up to scrape away at the sugary bits stuck to the bottom. Healthy, I know, though I've never really been one for any kind of figure. But hey, I'm not completely useless, like the first years seem to think. I can write (reasonably well) and draw (I think)... But hey, some people seem to think so. 100,000 people, in fact. My page on how to design a graphic novel has proved pretty popular amongst the Internet. Who knows? They may even check out the link to my first chapter. I could be famous! Or not... I laugh down the thought.

Damn, my head hurts... When I think about it, I probably could have gone into school today, if I'd have really pushed myself, but what would be the point in that? Hours trapped in the heat of a classroom, probably make myself worse and have to stay at home until the weekend. I groan when I remember that I'm probably going to have to go in tomorrow. Still, it's not all bad. At least now I have something to brag about.

Speaking of which, I turn back to my computer to check the counter again, when something takes me aback. A single grey message flashes up on the screen.

_Hi, Kyousuke! I've read your chapter. It's really good. Fancy meeting up at the school at 7:00 tonight? I have something important to tell you. _

7:00? That's five minutes. I'm in two minds whether to laugh at this anonymous message and ask the sender how they managed to find me through my computer, but I'm curious now. Are they from school? My instincts are telling me to ignore this message and get on with something else. Only a complete idiot would obey some anonymous message.

An idiotic hero. Sounds like someone I know all too well.

* * *

**A/N:** I feel bad for adding another boring / introductory chapter, but I had to throw this is at some time. Kyousuke Natsuno... Another diary holder?! He's your classic graphic novel / videogame nerd, with the term 'graphic novel' used specifically because he's more into American media culture than Japanese - _The E__lder Scrolls_ over _Final Fantasy_, _Spiderman_ over _Naruto_, and all that. Next chapter returns to Aria and Elliot. Please drop a comment and look out for it!

-VoRTeX


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 / Elliot**

_Thursday 20__th__ June / 7:36 pm / Kagoshima High School, Art corridor_

Bullshit. This is bullshit. I've been lured here. That… _person_, whoever they are, has had a hand in it. I should go back and shoot them properly, but I reckon I've done enough to rough them up a bit. If they have any sense, they'll run away and leave me the hell alone. As for me, I intend to travel as far away from this place as I can.

The gun is still in my hand, the remaining shells banging against my leg from inside my pocket with each step. I've left the case in one of the nearby classrooms. Once I've collected it, I'm done. Too many strange things have happened today for my liking. First that girl in the courtyard, and then… I try not to even think about the events surrounding my diary. I keep telling myself that once I look again, it'll be back to the way it was. No weirdness. No strange messages.

Nothing.

_Shit_.

I push open the door to the classroom and walk to the front. Beneath the teacher's desk sits the metal gun case. I bend down and flip the lid open, only to feel my heart jump. It's empty.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Were these yours?"

My head snaps up to see a figure at the back of the classroom. I didn't notice before because of the dark, but now I see that it's a girl, standing still amongst the desks. She extends her arm, scattering a handful of shells across the room. They land against the surfaces with a collection of _clink_s.  
I whip out my gun and point it at her. "The hell do you want?"

A short, dry laugh escapes her lips. "You're aggressive. Strangely, I like that."

She takes a step forward, but my grip on the gun tightens, and she stops.

"Oh, please," she says. "If I knew you were going to shoot me, do you think I would still be standing here unarmed?"

I frown. What's she talking about? How can she be so sure that I'm not going to shoot her? It's true – my finger trembles around the trigger, just like in the art classroom – though it should be impossible for her to guess that. For all she knows, I'm a mass-murderer with a taste for killing. She seems almost too confident to rely on chance.

"How do you know?" I ask.

Instead of answering, the girl raises her left hand and shakes a small book at me. It's A5 size, and flimsy – a regular jotter notepad. What it means, I don't know.

"You've noticed it too, haven't you? Our diaries… all of a sudden, they can tell the future. It's the reason we're here. Look." She opens hers up and begins reading: "'7:37 Elliot Kageyama enters sociology classroom GP 4. He frowns and bends down behind the teacher's desk, where his gun case is stored.'"

I can barely believe what I'm hearing. Has this bitch really taken it upon herself to write down my every move? I shake my head. "Rubbish. You saw me enter the classroom. Am I supposed to be impressed or something?"

She shrugs. "Impressed or not, this diary has your every movement caralogued, past, present and future. Even when you're not here, I know what you're doing. Do you really want to leave me with that kind of knowledge?"

Her confidence is starting to get to me now. "So what do you suggest? That I kill you? Is that what you're saying?"

"Of course not. Not unless you want to win."

I frown. "Win? Like a game?"

The girl pauses and frowns, as if she's thinking about the best way to explain something. "A game… Do you remember _Battle Royale_?"

"What, that old film with the students trying to kill each other?" I think back to the movie with its scratchy picture and cheesy sound. It's been a long time since I watched it, and even longer since its release, so I find it strange that the girl would bring it up.

"Don't you see?" she continues. "It's just like the film. We're all wrapped up in some survival game, right here in the school. You're a player, and I'm a player. Our job is to eliminate one another to keep ourselves alive."

She takes a step closer, apparently unfazed by the gun I still have pointed at her. Now in the light, I can pick out her features better: she's wearing the standard school uniform, with dark straight-cut hair and pale skin. Her face is sharp, but pretty – I'm guessing she's one of the irritating popular girls I see around all too often.

"And did someone tell you that? Or did you work it out for yourself?"

"Well, it's not hard, is it?" she says. "Take out your diary and I'll show you."

I'm reluctant to do as she says, but feel my hand reach for my pocket nevertheless. As I feel for my phone, I remember all the odd entries I'd received earlier on, the words appearing in my diary I was certain I hadn't written. At first, I'd thought someone had been hacking into the system. Now, though, I'm not so sure.

I stop myself before I can pull it out into the open. I lower the gun, but my finger remains hovering over the trigger. "My diary's stored on my phone. I record my life and interactions with people. It's pretty normal."

The girl nods. "That's useful. You can use it to keep track of yourself. It should save your life if you utilise it well."

_And yours_, I think to myself. I already have this girl figured out. Supposing that all this rubbish with diaries is true, then chances are she's planning on keeping me close to keep tabs on herself. Using my diary to save her own skin. And I may just let her. Providing she tells me exactly what's going on.

I stare at her. I don't intend to trust this girl, or stay around for a long time, but it doesn't seem wise to make an enemy straight off. There's something unnerving about her. Maybe it's the way she stands, or the confidence that flows from her words. As if she already has this mess of a situation figured out. In a way, she reminds me of myself. I ask her name.

"Kimiko Harada."

I nod, then glance back to the door. An image of the stranger in the art room, shuffling about beneath the tables, springs to mind. "There's someone else in the school with us. I don't think they're armed, but if this is a survival game, then they've probably figured that out already." My eyes snap back to Kimiko. "What do we do?"

The girl smiles, a cold motion that lights up her entire face. "I think, Mr Kageyama, we have found our first opponent. They must be eliminated right away."

I nod. My hand tightens around the loaded gun by my side. "Right."

* * *

**A/N:** It's been so long since the last update! I'm sorry to anyone following this. My excuse is that I lost my iPod, where this chapter was stored, a few weeks ago. Then I found it. It was down the side of my bed. Finding it was an accident as well. I was looking for my headphones. Happy to say, they are now both safely found.

I hope it's sunny tomorrow again.

-VoRTeX


End file.
